


The Auror and the Snitch

by ReverieWilde



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Auror Harry Potter, Drama & Romance, EWE, Fake Character Death, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Post-Hogwarts, Smut, Unexpected feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-29 18:17:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21414556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReverieWilde/pseuds/ReverieWilde
Summary: Several years after the Battle of Hogwarts. Harry is an Auror on a dangerous mission. Draco, one of his informants, agrees to help capture a Death Eater on the run. They break through the wards of Malfoy Manor but will they get out? HP/DM eventual SLASH
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 59





	1. Into the Manor

Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter looked at each other nervously.  
“You ready?” Malfoy asked.  
Harry nodded. “As I’ll ever be. Are you certain you can get me through the wards?” “Let’s find out,” Draco smiled.  
Pulling his invisibility cloak over himself, hoping to fool the wards, Harry watched Malfoy as he raised his wand in one hand and held up the other. He whispered an incantation, closing his eyes. Through the cloak, Harry could just make out the subtle sparks of magic responding to Draco’s voice.  
Suddenly, Draco reached out to where he was still certain Harry was standing and disapparated them both.  
They arrived within the grand hall of Malfoy Manor, looking much the same as it did when the Dark Lord had taken it over. It was dank and gloomy, and eerily silent. Harry removed the cloak, folded it and placed it on a chair by the staircase. He wanted to put it somewhere he’d be able to find it when they completed their mission. Well, his mission. Draco was there, primarily to redeem himself and to earn a position in the Ministry.  
The mission for Auror Potter was to either capture or kill one Fenrir Greyback. It had been one of the missions of the Aurors since the war ended. Now, however, Greyback was suspected of hiding out in Malfoy Manor. It was a sort of safe house created by the wards of the Death Eaters after Lucius Malfoy was sent to Azkaban. Lucius refused to cooperate in breaking down the wards to his family home for fear the Ministry would take over and confiscate his possessions, most of them not only valuable, but powerful. Draco volunteered in his father’s stead. He felt it was futile to fight the Ministry and he was able to use his cooperation as a bargaining chip. In exchange for getting Harry into the Manor and helping to capture Greyback, Draco would secure a place in the Auror training program. It was something he otherwise would not have been able to consider. As a bonus, it would piss his father off royally. Even more so than moving out of the Manor had. Draco was wise enough to know not to tell his father that he became a snitch for the Ministry, however. There was no telling to what lengths Lucius would go to stop him. As it was, his father would most likely disown him once he learned of Draco’s entrance to the Auror program. There would be no forgiveness if Lucius found out that as a direct result of Draco’s information, seven dark wizards had been captured over the past several years. Four were in Azkaban, the other three were not taken alive. And now there would be one more casualty to add. Draco highly suspected Greyback would not be taken alive.  
As a Death Eater and a Malfoy, Draco had access to the wards surrounding the Manor. The trick would be bringing Harry with him. He suspected his father had also created a “back door” ward, for himself, Narcissa and Draco only, in case things had gone terribly awry while the Dark Lord had taken over. However, Lucius never had the opportunity to use them to his advantage.  
So Draco stood, a stranger in his own home, with the last person he thought would return to the mansion. Harry glanced around nervously.  
“I forgot how huge this place is. How will we ever find him before he realizes we’re here. If he even is here.”  
“He’s here,” Draco simply said. “The wards were disturbed. And I can feel my Mark calling to his.”  
With the Dark Lord gone, loyal Death Eaters stepped forward and linked together through their Dark Marks. Though Draco hadn’t willingly joined their collective, his Mark was still drawn to the others. Another reason Draco wanted to become part of the Ministry was to have access to superior Healers, in the hope that one of them would be able to remove his Dark Mark.  
“Can you tell where he is?” Harry’s whisper brought Draco out of his Reverie.  
The former Death Eater shook his head. “Just that he’s near.” He looked up the staircase. “We may as well go up and look.”  
Harry followed. The pair tip-toed up the steps, keeping a watchful eye.  
“Maybe we should split up,” Harry suggested.  
“You don’t know your way around,” Draco whispered back.  
“But we’ll be able to cover more ground,” Harry said.  
At once, Draco raised his wand and called out, “Stupify!” The blast went right next to Harry’s head, sending him to the floor.  
“What the Hell?”  
Another blast, from behind Harry, sailed over his head. He looked for the source and saw the overly hairy form of Fenrir Greyback turning a corner.  
“Shit!” Draco shouted in frustration. “I can’t apparate. The charms are preventing it.”  
“Me neither,” Harry confirmed. “At least we know where he is though.”  
Following the direction Fenrir had last been seen, Harry and Draco cautiously walked along the dreary hallway.  
Harry saw the hex coming a split second too late and wasn’t able to deflect it completely. He was thrown back against the wall and collapsed in a pile on the floor. As he struggled to get up, he witnessed Greyback and Malfoy cast curses and hexes at one another in rapid succession. Each was able to fend off the other’s spells. However, the walls had been pummeled and were steadily crumbling. Harry had gotten in a few shots from his difficult angle. Most of them were deflected, but Greyback had been injured by falling debris.  
Greyback was a man with his back against the wall, fighting for his very life. Harry would have preferred to take him alive, to stand trial. But he would kill him if he had to. Harry’s own conscience and concern for Malfoy’s safety were hindrances the werewolf didn’t share. Greyback was out for blood from the start and it only incensed him more that Draco, a Death Eater himself, was cooperating with the Dark Lord’s murderer.  
Desperate to make a break for the front door, where the wards were most forgiving, Greyback blasted the wall near Harry, effectively shutting him off from himself and Malfoy. Draco took advantage of the distraction and came out of his place of relative safety to cast a disarming spell. He wasn’t quick enough.  
In a surprising move, the werewolf cast a trip jinx at Draco, who had been standing at the top of the stairs. Draco felt as if he were falling in slow motion, and powerless to do anything about it.  
I can’t believe I’m going to die by a fucking trip jinx, Draco thought bitterly. After everything I’ve been through. It’s hardly fitting.  
As Greyback bounded down the stairs, he blasted the wall a few times, as well as the stairs themselves. Large chunks of plaster and stone cascaded down on Draco hitting his right ankle, shattering it. Through all the noise, Harry still heard his cry of pain.  
By then, Harry had broken through the barrier separating him from the other two and made somehow down the decimated staircase before it collapsed completely. He threw every curse he knew at Greyback. The Death Eater was exceptional at defending against Harry’s hexes, but was unable to get in any shots of his own. The ceiling above them had become cracked and small pieces of plaster had started falling onto Fenrir. Dust got in his eye, temporarily blinding him.  
Taking full advantage, Harry screamed, “Avada Kedavra!”  
As Greyback fell to the floor, a large section of the ceiling finally gave way, burying him in several feet of debris and furniture from the room above. Harry stood watching as the last bits settled on the pile. Although he’d had permission to use deadly force, encouraged even, Harry felt empty. After so much death and destruction during the Battle of Hogwarts, any loss of life was regrettable.  
Suddenly he remembered Draco. Whirling around, Harry found him at the bottom of what was left of the staircase, looking like a rag doll tossed aside by a child. His limbs were at odd angles and his head was turned away from Harry. There was blood on the floor, but not much, Harry thought thankfully.  
Harry ran to Draco’s side and dropped his wand, removing pieces of wall that had fallen on him.  
“Malfoy?”  
Draco stirred and turned his head toward Harry. “Did you get him?” he croaked out.  
“Yeah, he’s dead under that pile blocking the front door,” Harry told him. “How badly are you hurt?”  
“My legs. I think they’re both broken.”  
Harry tentatively lifted a trouser leg. The Slytherin’s left leg was swollen and bruised. The other leg was worse. The ankle had ballooned up beneath his sock.  
“I think you may be right,” Harry said. “You won’t be leaving here of your own volition.”  
“Neither one of us will be.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“The wards changed. I had a suspicion something like that would happen. When the Dark Lord took over, I think my father set the wards to trap anyone inside should there be an attack. There’s probably a ‘back door’ for only my family to escape. But I don’t know the spell to activate it.” His eyes wandered to the floor next to Harry. “Watch out!”  
The floor beneath Harry had begun to give way. He had only a split second to back away and pull Malfoy with him a few feet away.  
“My wand!” Harry cried as he watched it tumble into the cellar with the section of flooring. “Fuck! How am I going to get that?” He leaned over just a bit to look down into the dark cellar. “Accio wand,” Harry tried. Nothing.  
“It must be buried,” Draco said.  
“I’ll get it later. First I have to get you someplace more safe.” Harry looked around and decided the corner under the catwalk was safest. The catwalk structure appeared to be sound and would provide a little bit of shelter from any falling debris.  
“You’re going to have to drag me. I’m afraid I won’t be much help,” Draco told Harry. He clutched his stomach and groaned.  
“You’re hurt worse than I thought, aren’t you? Do you think you have internal injuries?”  
Draco nodded and squeezed his eyes shut against the pain. Gingerly, Harry reached out and felt Draco’s head.  
“I need to see if you have any wound on your head.” He slowly ran his hands over the blond head feeling for cuts and bumps. He found a small superficial cut but didn’t deem it life threatening. As he continued to move his hands through Draco’s hair, Harry was reminded of his Godson Teddy’s hair when he was born. He’d never felt a baby’s hair before that. And he’d certainly never felt an adult’s hair as soft as Draco’s. Not even a girl’s hair. Harry shook the inappropriate thoughts out of his head and resumed his task.  
“Only minor scrapes. Do you have a headache?”  
“No, I think my head is fine. But I feel nauseous and I have a sharp pain in my side.”  
“Let me see if I can do anything to help you until we get you to a proper Healer.” Harry looked around for his wand, then remembered that it had fallen into the cellar. “Shit. I’m going to need your wand.”  
Draco sighed heavily and reached out for his wand, next to him. “It’s damaged worse than Weasley’s, I’m afraid,” he joked. In his outstretched hand were the pieces of his wand.  
“Shit!” Harry cursed again. “I’ll have to start digging for Greyback’s then.”  
Rolling up his sleeves, Harry prepared himself for the painstaking task of excavating the pile of rubble for Greyback’s wand.  
“That could take hours.”  
“All the more reason for me to begin right away. We need to get you to St. Mungo’s as soon as possible.”  
Piece by piece, Harry spent the next two hours sifting through building material and broken furniture with no luck. He hadn’t even reached the werewolf’s body.  
“Potter?” Draco called out weakly.  
“Are you all right?”  
“I’m thirsty.”  
“I’ll find some water. Where’s the kitchen?”  
“Over that other pile of rubble and to the right. Can’t miss it.” Draco paused. “I’m cold, too.”  
Harry’s heart sank. Through his Auror training, he knew that Draco was going into shock.


	2. Lament

Harry’s heart sank. Through his Auror training, he knew that Draco was going into shock. There wasn’t very much Harry could do beyond basic first aid. “I’ll be right back.”  
It took Harry a while just to get over the fallen ceiling and into the kitchen. Draco had been correct. There was no way anyone could miss the kitchen. He thought it was bigger than the entire main floor of 4 Privet Drive.   
Harry found the largest container and emptied it to hold the water, plus a cup for Draco to drink from. Remembering that Draco was cold, he searched for a blanket of some sort. Most people didn’t store blankets in their kitchen and the Malfoys were no exception. He did find several small dish towels, but they were too small to provide much warmth. Harry took them anyway.  
One last search, for food, left Harry empty handed as well. He surmised Greyback had been hiding there long enough to exhaust the food supply.  
When at last Harry returned, Draco’s eyes were closed and he lay very still. For a moment, Harry was afraid he’d already succumbed to his injuries. The longer he stood and watched, though, the more signs of life he saw.  
“Malfoy, I have some water,” Harry said quietly, not wanting to startle the injured man.  
Draco’s eyes fluttered open and he licked his lips. Carefully, Harry helped him sit up slightly and offered the cup. He held it up to Draco’s mouth as the blond tried to gulp.  
“Slow down. You need to take small sips,” Harry advised.  
Draco took a few smaller swallows and tipped his head back, indicating that he’d had enough. Before releasing Draco, Harry rolled up some of the dish towels to use as a pillow, then eased his head down.  
“I couldn’t find any blankets. This will have to do,” Harry said, and removed the light jacket he was wearing and placed it over Draco. He knew his cloak must be buried somewhere in the foyer, but he didn’t have time to dig for it. The wand was more important.  
“You make a fair nurse maid, Potter. I think you missed your calling,” Draco smirked.  
“I’m a man of many talents,” Harry joked.  
“I’ll bet you are.”  
Feeling tired, Draco closed his eyes again. Harry was relieved, as he didn’t want him to notice the blush at Draco’s innuendo. But perhaps that wasn’t how Draco meant it.  
“I’m going to keep digging. Will you be okay for a bit?”  
“Yes,” Draco whispered. “Go on.”  
Reluctantly, Harry returned to his earlier task. It felt like he had sifted through the wreckage for hours, making little headway. Intending to take just a short break, Harry checked on the sleeping blond. He was shivering.  
“Damn it, Malfoy, why didn’t you tell me you were so cold?”  
“I-I-I’m fine.”  
“You’re not fine. You’re in shock.”  
Quickly, Harry took off his jumper and draped it over Draco. The injured feet needed to be elevated, but Harry knew it would be excruciating to move them. He cursed himself for not remembering to elevate his feet earlier.  
“I have to move you. I’m sorry. It’s going to hurt. A lot.”  
His voice barely above a whisper, Draco begged, “Just warn me, all right?”  
Harry looked around for something to prop Draco’s legs on. He found a partially intact footstool and folded the remaining dish towels for the top.  
Harry took a deep breath. “On the count of three, all right? But don’t hold your breath,” Harry warned. “Try to breathe through the pain and focus on something.”  
“Like what?”  
“I don’t know. Anything that you can concentrate on. Something that might take your mind off the pain.” Harry paused. “Ready?”  
Draco nodded. He kept his eyes on Harry’s face as Harry focused his attention on Draco’s legs and feet. He looked more nervous than Draco felt.  
“One, two, three,” Harry said and quickly lifted both legs up on top of the footstool.  
“Shit! Piss! Mother fucker!” Draco shouted.  
It really wasn’t funny, but Harry had to stifle a giggle at the burst of energy from the formerly lethargic man. Draco had always been in such control, Harry couldn’t recall ever hearing him swear like that before.  
“God damn, that hurts,” Draco grunted through gritted teeth.  
“I’m sorry. It had to be done. I should have done it right away. Now I have to get you warmed up somehow.”  
Harry looked around, for the millionth time, for anything to cover Draco. If he could get upstairs, he was sure to find plenty of blankets. But with the staircase destroyed and nothing to climb, thinking along those lines was only frustrating Harry more. He glanced at the large tapestry that was still miraculously hanging up.  
“Is that tapestry held up by magic?” he asked.  
“I don’t fucking know. You’re concerned about the decor?”  
“I mean, will it come down? Maybe I can use it to cover you.”  
Draco sighed. “Sorry. I know you’re trying your best. I really don’t know if it will come down. I never paid much attention to it.”  
Harry walked to the wall hanging and gave it a hard tug. It didn’t budge. Pulling with all his might, Harry tried again. The tapestry stuck tight.  
“Fuck,” he said under his breath. “There’s only one other thing I can think of.”  
“What’s that?”  
“Me.”  
“You don’t have to,” Draco said quietly.  
“It’s either that or let you die,” Harry smirked. “Now what kind of hero would I be if I were willing to let you die for fear of getting cooties.”  
“Cooties? What are cooties? Do I have them?” Draco started to panic.  
It amused Harry that Draco didn’t know what cooties were. He chuckled at the sheltered life of a pure blood wizard. “No. Nevermind.”  
Harry carefully lay down next to Draco on the marble floor. That was half the problem. The floor was keeping him cold. Harry needed to put something between Draco and the marble.  
“Draco, I’m going to try to lift you up a bit to put my jumper under you. I think that may help.  
Harry moved the jumper, and a few curses later, Draco did feel slightly warmer. Or rather, not quite so cold.  
Lying down next to Draco again, Harry put his arm around the shivering man, rubbing his body to use friction to warm him up.  
“Is this helping?”  
“A little, I think.” Draco’s voice was back to its weakened state.  
“How are your legs?” Harry still felt guilty for moving them.  
“I can’t really feel them anymore. So, I guess they’re okay.”  
“What about your side?”  
“Potter,” Draco sighed. “I’m broken, in several places. None of which are going to improve on their own. You can stop with the constant assessing. I know it’s part of your training, but can we just assume nothing will change in the near future?”  
“Sorry. Habit,” Harry apologized. “But can I get a look at your side. Just to see if there’s a wound I need to cover.”  
Sighing again, Draco relented.  
Very carefully lifting Draco’s shirt and jumper, Harry examined Draco’s torso. There was a nasty bruise on his left side toward his belly. Harry was by no means proficient in anatomy, but he knew there were probably important organs in there that had been damaged, causing the pain.  
He gently ran his fingers over the spot. The blond’s pale skin was ice cold, even under a shirt and jumper. Harry then suddenly remembered something else from his basic healer training using muggle methods.  
Harry began to remove Draco’s jumper.  
“What are you doing? You’re supposed to warm me up, not make me colder,” Draco protested, though he was in no shape to fight Harry’s efforts. And so his jumper was removed. Harry began to unbutton Draco’s shirt.  
“If I didn’t know better, Potter, I’d think you were trying to take advantage of me,” Draco joked, teeth chattering.  
“You wish,” Harry retorted as he unbuttoned his own shirt. He gently turned Draco’s upper body toward him and pressed their chests together, making sure not to squeeze his side too much. He wrapped his arms around Draco, pulling Draco’s jumper on top of them to hold in the heat generated by Harry.  
Draco nodded. “Mmmm.”  
“Better?”  
“Warmer.” Harry felt himself blush as Draco’s breath tickled his cheek when he spoke. Fortunately, Draco’s eyes were closed.  
Shifting slightly, Harry reached for Draco’s hands and pulled them up to his mouth. Draco’s warm breath gave him an idea. He held Draco icicle-like fingers up to his mouth and breathed on them as he would his own hands when he forgot to wear gloves.  
Draco’s eyes sprung open and he watched as Harry touched the icy appendages to his warm full lips. Harry’s hot breath not only warmed up his hands, but the sensual manner in which he did it caused Draco’s heart rate to speed up a bit. Unfortunately, that wasn’t helping the situation. He closed his eyes again. He was so tired.  
“Harry?”  
“What?” he answered against Draco’s hands.  
“I’m not going to make it, am I?”  
“Of course, you are.”  
“You’re a terrible liar. You know that, right? No one else is going to be able to get in here in time. Not unless my father miraculously decides to cooperate. And if they let him out.”  
“Save your strength, Draco.”  
“I need to tell you something. The real reason I came on this mission.”  
“Don’t speak. You can tell me later, when you’ve recovered.” Harry wasn’t about to let him say his goodbyes. That was as good as giving up. He wasn’t going to give up and he wasn’t going to allow Draco to either. He continued to breathe on Draco’s hands, satisfied that he had gotten his way.  
After a moment or two of silence, Harry realized he hadn’t.  
Draco opened his eyes. Eyes that, at one time, Harry thought were cold and steely. Now they appeared frightened and full of regret.  
“I probably wouldn’t have helped get Greyback if it weren’t you asking,” Draco finally spoke.  
Harry chuckled. “I thought you helped despite the fact that it was me asking.”  
“Really? Are you still going to pretend not to know? Especially under these circumstances.”  
“Draco you’re going to make it. I promise I’m going to keep you alive until help arrives. I’m certain Hermione and Ron are working on it as we speak.” Harry took Draco’s hands and placed them between their bodies and wrapped his arms around the former Death Eater.  
“Harry?” Draco’s gaze seemed to hold a power his body lacked at the moment, pinning Harry in place.  
“What?” Harry asked quietly. Draco wasn’t following his advice about keeping quiet anyway. And maybe talking would keep him alert and alive. He supposed he may as well let Draco say whatever was so damned important.  
“I’m in love with you.”  
Harry blinked. He had some inkling of a crush perhaps. But love? Draco’s flirtatious banter didn’t go unnoticed. It didn’t go unanswered either. But that was how Draco talked to everyone, wasn’t it? He enjoyed flirting and was exceptional at it.  
Draco continued, assuming Harry wasn’t going to make any similar declarations of his own.  
“I think I have been for some time now. I thought surely you must have noticed. Every time the Ministry called me in for information in some case or another, I would request to speak with you.” Draco chuckled a bit, causing a coughing fit. He tried not to cough in Harry’s face. Manners to the end, Harry thought. Draco was dying and yet he still was trying to maintain some level of etiquette.  
“I’ll get the water,” Harry offered and began to pull away.  
“No, please don’t leave.” Draco weakly pulled at Harry’s body. He cleared his throat. “I’m okay now.”  
“You shouldn’t talk. The coughing fits are taking a lot out of you. You need to save your strength.”  
“I need to finish. I might not get the chance later.” Draco continued with his confession. “You’re predictable, Potter. Did you know that? I knew when you’d be at the cafes in Diagon Alley and when you’d lunch in muggle London. I knew which restaurants you favored. I tried not to show up too often. You never found it odd that we’d run into one another so often?”  
“The English wizarding world isn’t that big. I saw a lot of the same faces often.”  
“Yes, I suppose you did. You probably had many stalkers. Me included,” Draco smiled sheepishly.  
Harry never thought of his fans as stalkers, but now that he thought of it, some witches and wizards did show up where he was quite often. But Harry also knew that the reason he frequented some of the places he did was because he had seen Draco in them. He stuck to the same cafes and pubs hoping to run into the blond.  
Instead of giving away that information, Harry said, “You must be delirious, referring to yourself as a stalker. I’m quite sure Malfoys don’t stalk.” He used his best Lucius Malfoy impression on the last part.  
“Yes, I probably am delirious. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m saying. I am in love with you. And I’m sorry I didn’t do anything about it when I had the chance.”  
Again, Harry was left speechless.  
“I’m getting worse,” Draco said. “I guess I did this for nothing. I thought confession was supposed to be good for the soul. But it seems to be breaking the one part of me that wasn’t damaged tonight.”  
His heart? Harry wondered. Was Draco really going to die? Until that point, he was certain he would not. Was this the last conversation they would ever have? Harry felt as though a part of him was breaking as well.  
“It wasn’t for nothing,” Harry finally said. “I did notice you. I noticed the change in you. I looked forward to seeing you.” Harry chuckled at himself. “You didn’t need to be brought into the Ministry as often as you were. And it wasn’t Ministry policy to take informants out for a meal after questioning.”  
He looked Draco in the eyes. Dull and glassy eyes, but with the slightest bit of hope in them.  
“I guess maybe I’m a little bit in love with you too.”  
Draco mumbled something unintelligible and his eyes slowly closed.  
Harry swallowed. “Draco? Are you still with me?”  
He reached up to feel Draco’s pulse, panicking when he couldn’t find one.  
“Draco? Draco!”  
He opened one of Draco’s eyes. The pupil in his soft grey eye remained fixed.  
“Draco?” He shook the blond’s unresponsive body. “Please don’t go,” he whispered.  
Resigned to accepting the inevitable, Harry hugged his former nemesis closely.  
“I’m sorry. I should have been able to save you. I’m so sorry, Draco.”


	3. Desperate Measures

“I’m here to see Lucius Malfoy,” Hermione told the guard behind the desk.  
“He ain’t seeing no one from the Ministry,” he scowled.  
“I’m not representing the Ministry, per se. It’s more a personal matter I wish to discuss,” she informed the guard. “He’ll definitely want to see me.”  
The guard rolled his eyes. He was going to have to actually get up out of his chair and walk the six steps to access the floo network.  
“Malfoy has a visitor.” The guard looked Hermione up and down. “Some young thing says she’s got some personal business with him.”  
Ten minutes later, Lucius arrived, escorted by two more guards with wands trained on him. He was dressed in embarrassingly drab grey prison attire. When he saw Hermione, he sneered.  
“Take me back. I’ll not speak with this mudblood.”  
One of the guards whacked Lucius on the back of the head with his wand.  
“Now, she came all this way to see you,” the guard said patronizingly. “And we went to all the trouble of getting you from your cell. So, you are going to listen to her.”  
Ignoring the guards, Hermione addressed the senior Malfoy. “It’s an urgent matter. I’d like you to reconsider assisting with the capture of Fenrir Greyback.”  
“No,” he replied curtly and crossed his arms over his chest.  
“I’m authorized to offer . . . compensation. In the form of a reduced sentence.”  
Malfoy appeared unmoved. “I’d rather rot in here than help the Ministry desecrate my family home.”  
Undaunted, Hermione continued. “Harry was able to get into the Manor, but he’s,” she took out her time piece, “four hours overdue.”  
“And why should I care? He got in.” Lucius grinned. “But he can’t get out. Is that it? Serves him right.”  
“Something must have gone wrong. Otherwise, Harry wouldn’t have missed giving the signal.”  
“Again, why should I care?” he asked smugly.  
“Draco is in there with him.”  
Lucius’ eyes widened, then narrowed. “What are you playing at? Why would my son be there, with Potter?”  
“He chose to help Harry get into the Manor in exchange for a position in the Ministry.  
Malfoy considered Hermione’s words. Draco certainly wouldn’t have helped out of the goodness of his heart. But to secure a position in the Ministry, he might.  
“If Draco was with him, they’d be able to get out.”  
“Not if something went terribly wrong,” Hermione reminded him.  
Lucius stroked his chin. If something happened to Potter, his son would still have been able to get out through the wards. but if the Manor was protecting itself, Draco wouldn’t know the counterspells to the new wards. He didn’t care if Potter perished in there with Greyback. However, if Draco had gone in and wasn’t able to get out, something must have gone wrong.  
Hermione cleared her throat. “Every moment you waste thinking it over could mean peril for Draco.” She deliberately used his son’s first name to help persuade him. “I have special permission to escort you to the Manor. In return for helping to rescue Auror Potter, your sentence will be reduced.”  
“By how much?”  
“Let me put it this way. If you do not cooperate, the Ministry will do everything in its power to retrieve Harry. That includes destroying the Manor if necessary. And Draco’s safety will not be guaranteed.”  
“Fine,” Lucius spat.  
“The deal will only be honored if Harry gets out as well.”  
“That’s preposterous. What if he’s already dead or severely injured? Besides, I will only be able to get Draco out. The new wards will only recognize Malfoys.”  
Hermione’s heart sank. “Then you either have to change the wards or convince them that Harry is a Malfoy.”  
Malfoy sneered at that thought. “In that case, I’ll have to change the wards.”  
Hermione and the Ministry escort she brought with her each took hold of one of Lucius’ arms. The three apparated to the Manor. Their sudden appearance startled Ron, who had been heavily engrossed in conversation with another Auror.  
“Shit! Mione, it’s about time.”  
“It took some time to convince him it was in his best interest to cooperate.”  
Ron took out his timepiece and looked at it for what seemed to be the thousandth time. “Coming up on five hours overdue. Still no signal from Harry.”  
“How do you know Potter didn’t just forget?” Lucius interjected.  
Both Hermione and Ron shot him a look that told him it was a ridiculous suggestion.  
Ignoring the comment, Hermione asked Malfoy, “Have the wards changed? Can you tell?”  
“I’ll be able to tell if my back door wards have been activated. I require a wand.”  
“No fucking way,” Ron said quickly. Lucius huffed.  
“Ron, he needs one,” Hermione told him. She turned to the senior Malfoy. “You can use mine.” Reluctantly, she held out her wand to him.  
Ron addressed the rest of the Aurors and a couple of hit wizards along for the ride. “If he does anything out of line, kill him.”  
Had Malfoy not seen the look on Ron’s face, he may have considered that an empty threat.  
Lucius raised both of his hands, Hermione’s wand in one, and closed his eyes. He felt the power surrounding the Manor with his own.  
“The Manor is protecting itself. Only a Malfoy may enter or exit, with the proper spell.” Lucius announced. “My son will not be able to get out on his own. I never told him the spell.”  
“Then, you must alter the wards. Can you do that?” Hermione asked.  
“Yes, but it will take some time,” Lucius answered. “I made it . . . complicated to remove.”  
“Do you need help?” Hermione offered.  
“No. Just stay out of my way.”  
Lucius set to his task, concentrating on the pathways his spells needed to follow in order to break the wards down.  
Ron leaned toward Hermione. “Do you think he’s bullshitting us?”  
She glanced at the elder Malfoy and shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. He tried to keep his cool back at Azkaban, but he was worried for his son. He said something about the Manor defending itself, which it would only do if there was something catastrophic going on inside. The back door wards were created so that Draco and his parents were the only ones able to escape, should the need arise,” Hermione explained.  
“So he was hedging his bets against Voldemort?” Ron questioned.  
“Looks that way. I suppose none of the Malfoys really had true trust in the Dark lord.”  
“Well, I don’t trust him either.” He jerked his head toward Malfoy.  
Lucius approached the pair. “I’ve done all I can from the outside. I think I may be able to get one of you through as a side along. But to remove it completely, I’ll have to go in.”  
“I’ll go,” Hermione volunteered.  
“No, I’ll go,” Ron insisted.  
“Ron, you’re in charge. You need to be out here in case something goes wrong. You’ll need to make the call to use brute force to get into the Manor.” Hermione looked him in the eye. “I understand the risks. But I don’t want anyone else making that call for me.”  
Ron nodded. She was right. With Harry already inside, he was in charge of this mission. The department couldn’t risk two of their top Aurors.  
“Be safe.” He kissed her gently before hardening his gaze on Malfoy. “If you don’t come out with Harry and Hermione, don’t bother coming out at all.”   
Though there was no real threat made, Lucius had no doubt that he would not make it back to prison should he fail at his task. He hesitantly wrapped his arm around Hermione and pulled her uncomfortably close as they prepared to apparate.  
“Wait,” Ron stopped them. “Take another wand.” He held his out to Lucius. “Give Hermione’s back to her. She needs to be able to defend herself if that lunatic Greyback is still wandering around in there.”  
Ron watched the pair disappear. He felt as though he may be sick.

HDHDHD

The sight that greeted Lucius and Hermione was nearly the last thing they had expected.  
“What the fuck is this?” At first Lucius couldn’t quite comprehend what he was looking at.  
“Harry?” Hermione was puzzled herself.  
He looked up at them. “I tried. I tried my best.”  
“Get away from him!” Lucius stormed toward Harry and his son. “Draco. Son.”  
Harry quickly got up and stood, weak from hunger and thirst. He had remembered to give Draco water, but hadn’t taken any for himself.  
“Harry, what happened?” Hermione questioned. “Where’s Greyback?”  
“Dead. Under that pile,” he pointed.  
“Draco?” Lucius had knelt by his son, trying to revive him.  
“Mr. Malfoy, I’m so sorry.” Harry choked a bit on his next few words. “Draco was severely injured in the attack. His wand was broken. Mine was lost. I tried to keep him alive.”  
Hermione looked at Draco as he lay on the floor, half dressed. “He was in shock, wasn’t he? You used muggle methods to keep him warm?”  
Harry nodded.  
“My boy,” Lucius whimpered. “My precious son.”  
For the first time ever, Harry saw Lucius Malfoy, not as a monster, but as a father. True, he had not been and ideal father. Draco had mentioned it on more than one occasion. But he was still a father, mourning the loss of his only son.   
Lucius turned angrily to face Harry. “Well, I’ll bet this is exactly what you wanted. You’ve finally succeeded in bringing down my entire family. The end of the Malfoys.”  
“No,” Harry protested.  
Malfoy stood and trained Ron’s wand on him. Harry made no move to protect himself. His guilt prevented it. Hermione, however, poised to take the elder Malfoy out if necessary.  
“Mr. Malfoy, I’m very sorry for your loss, but you need to remove the wards.” Hermione knew very well, with nothing to lose, Lucius may yet attempt to kill Harry in retaliation. Possibly her as well. Their only hope was to keep him focused. “We should get his bod--Draco, out of here and tend to him properly. We can’t do that until you remove the wards.”  
Lucius stood a moment longer with the wand pointed at Harry, then turned away and raised his hands. He recited an incantation under his breath and closed his eyes. In a matter of minutes, the Manor was no longer protected. They would be able to get Draco out, but then anyone would be able to get in. It didn’t matter much to Lucius anymore.  
He turned back around to Hermione and Harry.  
“Get out of my house.”  
“Let me help you--”  
“I can take care of my son myself. Get out!”  
Hermione gently placed her hand on Harry’s arm. “Let him be,” she whispered. “We should go.”  
“I don’t feel right just leaving, Mione. I should have been able to do more.”  
“He needs to be alone with his son.” Reluctantly, Hermione addressed Lucius. “If you please . . . Ron’s wand?”  
He tossed it at her, not caring whether or not the throw was accurate.  
Harry watched as Lucius cradled Draco in his arms, rocking him as he would a baby. If the Auror hadn’t been certain his heart was breaking earlier, he was certain of it now. The only evidence of his anguish was a lone tear slowly trailing its way down his cheek and into his open collar.


	4. Tentative Resolution

“Harry, there’s nothing more you can do here. Let’s go.”  
Hermione took his hand and apparated them to St. Mungo’s.  
“I don’t need to see a Healer, Mione. I didn’t get hurt.”  
“Harry, I can see cuts and bruises,” Hermione said. “Humor me. Please?”  
The pair checked in with the Welcome Witch, then sat in chairs to wait for a Healer to see Harry. Hermione took a moment to send an owl to Ron explaining that she’d taken Harry directly to St. Mungo’s.   
The events of the past twelve hours ran over and over in Harry’s mind like a film. He wished he could turn it off. It was a welcome relief when the witch behind the desk called his name an hour later.  
“Would you like me to go in with you?” Hermione asked.  
“I think I can handle it,” Harry smiled.  
She smiled back. “I’ll wait for you then.”  
A Healer’s assistant walked Harry back to a private room and instructed him to remove his shirt, trousers and shoes.  
“Other than the minor cuts and scrapes I see, do you have any injuries?”  
“I don’t think so,” Harry answered. He rolled his neck from side to side, hunched his shoulders and straightened and bent his legs. It was actually the first he took the time to check himself. “No.”  
The Healer walked in, holding out his hand. “Auror Potter. Pleased to meet you. I’m Healer Morgan.”  
Harry shook the offered hand. “Nice to meet you. But really, I’m fine. I only came because my friend insisted.”  
“Well, let’s see if we can put your friend’s mind at ease.” The Healer pulled out his wand and cast a few charms on Harry. Frowning, he concentrated his wand on Harry’s head. The he followed the outline of Harry’s body.  
“Your blood pressure is a bit higher than normal,” the Healer informed him. “And you’re dehydrated.”  
“I was on a mission. A dangerous one,” Harry explained.  
“I see. It seems to be taking a toll on you. There is a chemical imbalance in your brain. Not uncommon for people in your line of business. Only mild melancholia, but it could lead to a deep depression if not treated.” The Healer took out his pad and quill to write down a potion for Harry to pick up. “Did you lose someone on this mission?”  
Harry blinked. “What?”  
“I’ve seen this before, in other Aurors. Losing a colleague or someone in their charge often leads to depression.”  
Harry looked off to the side. “Yes. I lost someone in my charge.”  
The Healer ripped off a small piece of parchment and handed it to Harry. “The hospital potions department will fill this for you. Take it once a day, for the next several days. It should make you feel better.”  
Looking at the paper, Harry nodded. He wasn’t sure whether or not he would actually take it. He didn’t feel he deserved to feel better.  
“I’d recommend counseling as well,” the Healer said. He chuckled, “But you won’t go. The Aurors never go.”  
“Am I finished?” Harry asked.  
“You’re free to go,” the Healer smiled. “Don’t forget to take the potion, Auror Potter.” He held out his hand to shake once more, and left Harry to dress.  
As Harry walked toward the waiting room, he crumpled up the paper and tossed it into the rubbish bin. Hermione stood when she saw him walking down the hall.  
“Well?” She raised her eyebrows.  
“I told you I’m fine. The Healer didn’t find anything wrong.”  
“You must be hungry. Let me take you to breakfast,” Hermione offered. “I guess at this point it’s lunch.”  
Harry shook his head. “I want to go to my office and write my report while it’s still fresh in my mind.”  
“Harry, you need a break.”  
“You can come if you want to keep an eye on me.”  
Hermione silently put her hand on his and apparated with him to the Ministry.  
Once in his office, he sat behind his desk and relaxed for the first time since leaving the Manor that morning. Hermione went to the lounge to get some drinks while Harry gathered himself together. She found him sitting and staring at the wall when she returned.  
“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Hermione observed. “It might help to talk.” She placed a glass of water on his desk and slid it toward him.  
He met her gaze. It was clear to her that he had things he needed to get off his chest. She waited to see if he would.  
He started off quietly. “I really did everything I could. I’m certain Lucius thinks I didn’t. But I did.”  
“I believe you, Harry. What happened?”  
He told her the story-- of Greyback’s attack, how they lost their wands, searching the kitchen for anything that might help. Reluctantly, Harry explained the state of Draco’s dress when she and Lucius found them.  
Hermione searched Harry’s face. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”  
Harry swallowed and spoke with a soft voice. “He, Draco, knew he wasn’t doing well. We both knew he was badly injured. He said he had things to tell me . . . before he . . .” He paused to compose himself. “What did he tell you?”  
“He said he was in love with me.”  
Hermione’s eyebrows shot up and her mouth dropped. “What did you do? I mean, what do you say to something like that?”  
Harry looked away to answer. “What does one usually say?”  
“Harry?”  
Turning back, Harry attempted to explain. “Hermione, he was dying, and it was my fault. What was I supposed to do?”  
“You told him you loved him?”  
“I just did what I thought I owed him. If he meant it, then at least he died thinking I felt the same.”  
Hermione smiled. “That was a very selfless thing to do. Not that I’m surprised.”  
“Selfless? No, selfless would have been finding a way to get into the Manor by myself. Killing Greyback by myself. Or getting only myself killed in the process. No, Mione, I took the coward’s way out. I couldn’t look him in the eye and face that he was losing the battle to stay alive. I lied to Draco to make myself feel better.”  
“Did you?” she asked quietly.  
Harry shot her a questioning look, then frowned. “I have to check in with Shacklebolt, then write my report.”  
Resisting the urge to question her friend further, Hermione sighed. “Will you come for supper? Just you, me and Ron.”  
Harry nodded. “All right. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d really like to get this over with.”  
“We’ll see you around half-six?” She kissed Harry’s forehead. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”  
As soon as Hermione left his office, Harry left for Shacklebolt’s office. The current Minister for Magic requested to debrief Harry himself. They spent more time than Harry would have liked going over the plan to remove and catalogue items from the Manor. That was a job for a different department. But Shacklebolt wanted Harry involved in the operation, given his experience with Dark magic. Of course, Harry agreed, partly to ensure that Draco’s things be treated with care and respect. Partly to force himself to go back to Malfoy Manor and move on. Kingsley invited Harry to supper with him that night, but Harry thanked him and told him of his other plans. By the time he left the Minister’s office, it was past three o’clock.

Upon returning to his own office, Harry reached into his desk for a report form. He took out a quill and began filling in the document. The general information came to him effortlessly. He was used to filing reports.  
However, his mind kept wandering as he began to relay the events in Malfoy Manor. He became increasingly distracted by ‘what ifs’. If just one circumstance had been different. If only all three wands hadn’t been lost. If only Lucius hadn’t booby trapped the wards. If only Greyback hadn’t delayed Harry behind a wall of bricks. If only wandless healing spells had been part of the Auror training.  
Two hours later, Harry was finally finished his arduous task. It had taken a toll on him to relive the ordeal. But now that he was finished, the real strain would begin. With nothing else to divert his attention, Harry’s eyes traveled to the chair across from his desk.   
The chair was empty now, but he could remember when it was occupied by Draco. Harry couldn’t even begin to guess how many times over the past three years Draco had been called to his office. Particularly recently. The Aurors were always looking for information on Death Eaters and other criminals, or looking to confirm information they’d already gotten. Harry was thorough in his job and relied heavily on informants. But none so much as Draco. A strange sort of trust had grown between them.  
That was gone now. Harry leaned forward on the desk and rested his forehead on his arms. He couldn’t keep his eyes open.  
Gone were the meetings in Harry’s office. Gone were the meals they sometimes shared afterward. Gone was the occasional pint in the local pub. Gone was his . . . friend.  
If Harry was being honest with himself, Draco had been becoming more than a friend. If he was being honest with himself, he really had fallen a little bit in love with Draco. Perhaps, more than a little bit.  
Harry was tired. Exhausted. He’d stayed up all night, trying to keep Draco alive. And now, eight and a half hours after Lucius came to rescue them, Harry wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep. Maybe he’d just rest there in his office before going to Ron’s flat.  
A soft knock came at his door. Harry opened his eyes, seeing nothing but the darkness of his desk. Whoever it was would surely go away if Harry didn’t respond. He closed his eyes again.  
A knock again, jarring Harry, as he’d been just about to doze off.  
“Fuck,” he whispered.  
He heard the doorknob turn and odd footsteps enter his office. Harry lifted his head only enough to see black boots and the end of a cane.  
“Fuck,” he whispered again, putting his head back down on his arms. Talking into his desk, Harry addressed the visitor. “Mr. Malfoy, I really don’t know what else to say to you. You can read my report as soon as I file it.”  
“Mr. Malfoy? I thought we were rather past that.”  
Harry’s head jerked up. Suddenly he felt wide awake, the adrenaline coursing through him.  
“D-D-Draco?” Harry quite literally closed his eyes and shook his head. He must be going mental, he thought. But when he opened his eyes again, Draco was still standing there, looking very amused. Battered and bruised, but amused.  
Harry sat behind his desk, blinking, unable to move or make sense of what was going on. Draco took pity on him and helped him out.  
“No, you’re not mad. I’m really standing here. It must be a shock. Father told me you were certain I was dead.” He chuckled a bit. “He wanted to keep it that way.”  
“But how?”  
“I remembered a wandless spell one of the Death Eaters taught me. It was handy for fooling his enemies into thinking he was dead, a sort of stasis. I took a chance that it might serve to do the same for me until my injuries could be tended to.”  
Harry’s jaw remained gaping as he listened. “No pulse,” he said quietly, staring.  
“Well, I still had one, you simply couldn’t detect it.” Draco awkwardly wet his lips. “Forgive me Harry, but I’m having a hard time figuring out if my resurrection is a good thing or not.”  
Without warning, Harry buried his face in his hands and began sobbing. He could no longer hold back the flood of emotions he had been keeping in check all day.  
“That didn’t help,” Draco joked. He laughed, which began a coughing fit.  
Harry pulled himself together enough to get up and walk to Draco. By the time Draco had stopped coughing, Harry was standing in front of him, his face tear-stained. He looked the injured man in the eye.  
“It’s a good thing,” Harry choked out. Without thinking, Harry hugged the man in front of him. He was more relieved to see him than he had words for.   
With his free hand, Draco pulled Harry to him and buried his face in Harry’s hair. He groaned as Harry’s embrace tightened.  
“I’m hurting you.” Harry immediately let go. He led Draco to the chair. “Sit down. Why did the Healers release you from the hospital? You’re still in pain.”  
Draco smiled. “I had more pressing issues. And I’m mostly healed. All of my internal injuries have been repaired. They did that while I was still in stasis. I can feel that the Skelegro has just about completed mending my ribs and my left leg. There were too many bruises for the bruise paste and my attending assistant gave up,” he laughed.  
“The cane?”  
“My right ankle is still broken. One Healer spent way too much time attempting to repair it before deciding it needs to be completely removed and re-grown. I wasn’t about to sit around another eight or so hours for that.”  
“You should probably be resting,” Harry chided. “Is your father staying with you? Actually, I’m surprised he let you out of his sight.”  
Draco glanced about the room. “In light of some of the discoveries about to be made inside the Manor, he went into hiding with my mother. Unfortunately, the reduced sentence he received for helping rescue you and me doesn’t apply to any new charges that may be filed.”  
The Auror in Harry couldn’t help asking, “Do you know what your father has hidden there?”  
Shaking his head, Draco answered, “Not specifically. During his servitude among the Death Eaters, Father acquired many dangerous items. But he kept them hidden from Mother and me. At least he had the good sense to try and protect us. In his own way.”  
“Yes. He did a wonderful job of protecting you,” Harry muttered sarcastically. “Is anyone staying with you?”  
Looking pointedly at the floor, Draco hesitantly replied, “I’ve tried to contact Blaise. And Pansy. I haven’t heard from either of them. I suspect Pansy’s new husband doesn’t want the trouble that seems to follow me.”  
“Then you’ll have to stay with me,” Harry insisted.  
“No, I was planning to go back to St. Mungo’s tonight. Really. I want to get this foot taken care of as soon as possible.”  
Harry wasn’t taking no for an answer. “I’ll bring in a private Healer to take care of you over night.”  
“Are you still at Sirius’ old place?”  
“Uh, no, I gave that up. It’s being used to house confiscated artifacts for the Ministry. I preferred to get my own flat.”   
Draco smirked. “And do you have spacious flat?”  
“Um, it’s a studio flat with a loft.”  
“And how do you intend to fit me and a Healer in with you in this studio flat?” Draco’s features softened. “Potter, I appreciate the gesture. I do. But I fear that you’re motivated by guilt. As you were in the Manor,” he added, creating an excuse for Harry’s admission. “I think it would be best if I went back to St. Mungo’s.”  
Harry’s mouth became a small, straight, tension-filled line. Yes, he felt guilty. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t sincere. “Draco, I–”  
“Harry, please. We need to consider all that’s happened and give it some good thought before we say and do things we can’t take back.”  
“A little late for that.” It suddenly occurred to Harry that perhaps it wasn’t for him that Draco was creating an out. A deathbed confession never holds up in court. Why should it hold up now?  
“I see,” Harry cleared his throat. “Do you need help getting back?” His wall was firmly back in place, his emotions neatly tucked behind it.  
“I’ll manage. I mainly came by to thank you. You saved my life. Again,” Draco chuckled. “It’s becoming a habit.”  
“You’re welcome,” Harry looked down at the report on his desk. He’d have to change a few things now. He decided the report could wait. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to be at Ron and Hermione’s for supper.”  
Nodding his head, Draco said, “Of course.” He got up and hobbled to the door. Before stepping through, he turned back to Harry. “Thank you again. For . . . everything.”  
Harry nodded curtly then returned to staring blankly at his report.


	5. Aurors Don't mope

Harry apparated to Ron and Hermione’s building and stood looking up at the light in the window. He sighed. The last thing he felt like doing was being social. He’d have to tell them about Malfoy. And Hermione was sure to have many questions for him.  
Walking up the narrow stairway, he nodded a greeting to one of their neighbors. He knocked on the door and waited. Hermione’s smile dropped when she opened the door.  
“What’s wrong? I thought you’d be relieved,” she said, pulling him into the flat.  
“About?”  
“We heard about Malfoy. It must be a huge weight off your shoulders to know he’s all right.”  
“Yeah, no reason for his father to try and harm you now,” Ron chimed in.  
“You knew, didn’t you Harry?”  
“I knew. He came to my office. To thank me,” Harry told them. He sat in the overstuffed armchair that he had come to think of as his chair.  
“Oh. Was it terribly awkward?” Hermione questioned. She noticed Harry’s quick glance at Ron. “I’ve told Ron what happened. You didn’t tell me not to . . .”  
“No, it’s fine. It’s nothing, really,” Harry shook his head.  
Still prodding, Hermione queried, “Was he expecting you to–”  
Harry cut her off, “He knew why I said it. He knew it was just a guilty conscience. And besides, Draco . . . Malfoy didn’t mean it. He was a desperate man grasping at something–absolution? I don’t know what. It’s done.”  
“Phew, that must be a relief,” Ron smiled.  
Harry stood, “Listen, do you mind if I beg off tonight? I’m exhausted. I didn’t sleep last night, and I meant to take a nap but, then Dra– Malfoy came to my office. I just want to sleep. You understand, don’t you?”  
“Yeah, sure, mate. Get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning,” Ron stood and clapped him on the back. “Oh, wait. I’ve got something for you.” He walked to the cupboard and brought out Harry’s wand to hand to him.  
“I didn’t think I’d see this anytime soon,” Harry said gratefully.  
“Gordon and Barrett dug it out of the cellar at the Manor. I think they’re just trying to suck up,” Ron laughed.  
“Did you eat anything, Harry?” Hermione asked.  
“I’m too tired to eat. I promise I’ll have a huge breakfast,” he said when he saw the motherly glint in her eye.   
“All right, Harry. See you tomorrow.” Hermione kissed his cheek and hugged him.  
Taking a handful of floo powder, Harry gave his address and disappeared. Hermione stood staring at the green flames for a moment before turning to Ron.  
“Did he seem disappointed?” she asked, furrowing her brow.  
“Disappointed that Malfoy’s alive. I should think not. There’ll be no inquiry now,” Ron responded.  
With hands on hips, Hermione shook her head. “Ron are you purposely misunderstanding or are you really that thick?” She sighed and flopped into the chair Harry was previously occupying.  
“He seemed disappointed that Malfoy didn’t care for him after all.”  
“You’re mad.”  
“I don’t think so,” Hermione insisted. “I saw them together recently. They were having lunch in one of the local muggle pubs.”  
“So,” Ron shrugged. “Harry would get him something to eat for his trouble occasionally. He came in as a snitch a lot.”  
“Did Harry take other snitches out to lunch?”  
Ron frowned. “I don’t know. I don’t keep track.”  
Hermione continued. “Anyway, they were smiling and talking and laughing together. It wasn’t the first time.”  
“Again, so?”  
“It looked more like a date than business.”  
“Mione, even if Harry had time to date, Malfoy’s not his type. He’s way too high maintenance. And poncy. Harry’s last two boyfriends were Quidditch players.”  
“I know, but . . .”  
“Not to mention all the bad blood between them from school.”  
Hermione hated to admit that Ron made some very valid points. Still, she couldn’t forget the look in Harry’s eyes as he talked about Malfoy.  
“Let it go, love,” Ron warned. “Let Harry figure his own life out.”

HDHDHD

Too tired to even make it up to the loft, Harry collapsed on the sofa in his flat. He fell asleep almost instantly, snoring heavily. Dreams plagued his sleep. They were more like memories. Falling debris, cursing Greyback, watching Draco die.  
Harry started awake, sweating. The flat was pitch black. It took him a moment to realize he was home, on his own sofa. He fished his wand out of his trouser pocket.  
“Lumos.”  
The room was light enough for him to see the clock. It read one-eighteen. He’d been asleep for almost six hours. He felt as though he could sleep another six. He laid his head back down and closed his eyes. The image of Draco closing his eyes and, what Harry thought was dying, played over in his head. It was still heart wrenching, even though Harry knew Draco was alive and, for the most part, well.  
Harry thought about their conversation in his office. He wondered why Draco was being so standoffish. Perhaps he was embarrassed by his confession. Draco was obviously reluctant to believe Harry’s. With good reason, Harry supposed. It was suspect.  
Growing restless, Harry got up from the sofa and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. On impulse, he picked up a yogurt and a jar of peanut butter. Hermione’s voice kept sounding in his head, telling him to eat. He had to admit, he was famished.  
While spooning the yogurt into his mouth, Harry opened a bag of pretzels and began dipping them in the peanut butter. Even Hermione wouldn’t be able to criticize his snack choice.  
After eating, Harry was wide awake. And moping about Draco.  
“Aurors don’t mope,” he chastised himself. He put away the food and stood in his kitchen, trying to pretend he wasn’t going to St. Mungo’s.  
He sighed and disapparated.

HDHDHD

“Hello. What seems to be the emergency?” The Welcome Witch asked Harry as he approached.  
“Actually, I was hoping you could tell me if Draco Malfoy checked in this evening,” he smiled. It was a practiced smiled, one he used in the business of being an Auror.  
“I’m sorry. I’m really not supposed to give that sort of information out.”  
Harry leaned an elbow on the desk. He grinned at her, looking over the top of his glasses. “You know who I am, yeah?”  
The Welcome Witch giggled. She was older than Harry, out of Hogwarts a year or two after he began. But young enough to flirt with him.  
“Of course, I know who you are.” She bit her lip to keep from smiling too much. It didn’t work.  
“Well, I was really hoping I could get in to see Draco. You see, we had a harrowing time of it. Very dangerous mission. He very nearly died. I saved his life, so I wanted to check on him.” He leaned forward a bit more. The witch did the same. “I feel somewhat responsible for him, you know?” he said in a low voice, as if to share a confidence.  
She nodded, easily reeled in. “Yes. The Healer on duty thought he was dead when he first came in. It was a miracle that he survived. And you saved him, huh?”  
Harry nodded and spoke slowly. “I’d be so appreciative, if I could just pop in for a moment. I promise I won’t disturb him. Just to ease my mind.”  
The witch looked around the room and down the hall. Only one Healer was in the reception area. “I’m really not supposed to let visitors in this late. But . . . I suppose I can make an exception for you.” She batted her eyelashes, not realizing that her charms were lost on him. Though he didn’t necessarily try to hide it, his sexual orientation was not common knowledge.  
He smiled again at the witch, who was now properly melting. He picked up her hand and kissed the back of it. “You are so lovely for doing this.”  
She grinned dopily and sighed. “He’s in room twenty-six.”  
Harry glanced at the Healer sitting in the corner, who was busy gawking at a Witches Weekly magazine, and followed the hallway toward Draco’s room.  
Now that he was there, after two in the morning, Harry was second guessing his plan. He silently pushed open the door. The small night light over the bed was enough for Harry to confirm that it was Draco in the bed. His right leg hung in a sling attached to the ceiling, the ankle bandaged to a splint. Though the blond appeared to be sleeping, his face showed signs of distress.  
Stealthily moving into the room, Harry walked around the bed to the right side. He watched Draco for a moment, then, feeling a bit like a stalker, decided it would be better to wait until morning to talk to him.  
Before Harry reached the door, Draco’s voice called weakly, “Hello? Miss Gwilt?”  
Harry stood at the door, hesitating. Should he try to sneak out or should he suck it up and reveal himself?  
“Is it time for my potion?” Draco asked.  
Harry stepped forward. He was a Gryffindor after all.  
“No. It’s me, Harry.”  
“What the devil are you doing here? What time is it?” Draco questioned groggily. He attempted to sit up but was painfully reminded that he was trussed up and hanging in an uncomfortable contraption.  
“I’m sorry to have disturbed you. I’ll come back in the morning.”  
Draco sighed. “Well, you’re here now. And I’m awake. It must have been important for you to come to the hospital at,” he glanced at the clock, “crikey, two-twelve? Is it my father?”  
“No, no. I didn’t mean to alarm you.” Harry slumped his shoulders and walked back to the bed. There was no getting around confessing his reason for visiting. He leaned against the window sill. “I just wanted to talk.”  
“At two in the morning?” Draco blinked. “Like this?” He chuckled. “I suppose I’m a captive audience.”  
“How is your leg? Shall I call the Healer? Are you in pain?”  
Draco shook his head. “It’s too early for another potion. Skelegro just hurts like the dickens. There’s no getting around it.”  
They regarded one another for a few long moments before either of them spoke again. Draco felt decidedly at a disadvantage in his hospital gown and most likely bed head, while Harry stood there looking his usual dapper self.  
“Draco,” Harry finally broke the silence. “I need to know.” He paused, knowing that Draco’s answer could completely change the nature of their relationship one way or another. But he didn’t think they could go back to the pretense of obliviousness they once had. The innocence of cautious flirtation was now behind them. “Did you really mean what you said in the Manor? I need to know, one way or the other.”  
Contemplating a long explanation, and trying to figure out a way to hedge his bets, Draco stalled. Not knowing which way Harry was hoping the conversation would go, he eventually settled on one word.  
“Yes.” He turned his gaze from Harry to the window, feeling vulnerable.  
Harry watched the blond, looking small and unguarded. He stepped closer and leaned over the bed. Before he could even think about what he was doing, he gently placed a hand on either side of Draco’s head and turned his face to his own, bringing their mouths together. Draco willingly leaned into the kiss, trying his best to keep from twisting his right ankle. Their lips gently caressed one another, as though they had been doing it for years. It wasn’t so much sexual, as it was filled with tender emotion.  
Draco broke the kiss and cocked his head. “I thought you only said what you said because I was going to die.”  
Harry looked Draco in the eye. “So did I.” He leaned in for another kiss.  
Frowning, Draco moved his head back. “Wait, what?”  
“Does it matter that I wasn’t sure if I meant it before?” Harry’s gaze silently pleaded with Draco. “I mean it now. I didn’t realize, until I’d lost you, how much you mean to me.” He waited for response. Some sort of sign that Draco understood.  
A small, shy smile appeared on Draco’s bedraggled face. “I’m injured, un-showered, helpless in a hospital bed, at the lowest point physically and emotionally I have been in a long time. And you choose now to tell me how much I mean to you?”  
Returning the smile, Harry said, “You look fine to me.”  
“So, you’re really a little bit in love with me?” Draco asked, remembering Harry’s words in the Manor.  
Harry swallowed and licked his lips nervously. In light of Draco’s earlier frankness, Harry simply answered, “Yes.”  
He sat down on the bed and kissed Draco again, tenderly and carefully. There would be time for passion later, when Draco was whole again. But for now, they eased into the comfort of one another’s arms.

HDHDHD

Miss Gwilt came into the room, as she normally did a patient’s room–loudly. She had no regard for the need for sleep. When a patient was due his potion, he was due his potion. She nearly dropped it, however, when she saw an extra body in Draco Malfoy’s bed.  
“What is the meaning of this?” she inquired, hands on hips. “Mr. Malfoy, this is not a hotel,” she scolded.  
“Very sorry. My visitor fell asleep.” He explained, blushing lightly.  
Harry lifted his head and rubbed his eyes. He was about to make excuses for his presence, when he noticed Draco grinning at him. He did the same, and quickly forgot about the Healer’s assistant.  
“Oh, Mr. Potter. I didn’t realize it was you,” Miss Gwilt bowed her head, slightly flustered. “I’ll . . . just leave Mr. Malfoy’s potion.” She placed it on a small table and swiftly left the room. Being the Chosen One still had its advantages.


	6. Restraint

“Potter, will you please stop doting on me?” Draco said the words but, secretly, he was enjoying the attention.  
Harry put down a tray carrying a pot of tea, along with two cups, a sugar bowl and a small carafe of milk, on the sitting room table. He took a seat on the opposite side of the table.  
“Are you sure you’ll be okay here by yourself?” “I’ve been living on my own for three years now,” Draco smirked.  
“I mean with your injuries. You’re still using the cane,” Harry observed.   
The room fell silent. Since the hospital room declaration and a shared kiss, the tension between Harry and Draco had become almost unbearable. Draco lifted the teacup to his lips and took a small sip.  
“Thank you, by the way.” He glanced quickly at Harry. “For helping me home this morning. And the tea.”  
“Of course. It was the least I could do. It’s my fault you went through what you did.”  
Draco took another sip and set his cup down. “And you sustained no injuries at all? That’s amazing.”  
“Well, my blood pressure was elevated. And my brain chemistry was off,” Harry laughed.  
“Oh, perhaps I should be caring for you then,” Draco said sarcastically.  
Harry swallowed at the phrase caring for you.  
Draco continued. “I volunteered, remember. You don’t have anything to feel guilty about. I’m glad you weren’t hurt. It wouldn’t do for both of us to be gimps,” he snickered.  
The pair talked about the particulars of the case. Shacklebolt had filled Harry in on some of the items found in the Manor and what was to be done with them. If Lucius was to come out of hiding, he would be arrested on sight. There would be no avoiding Azkaban.  
They spoke about the Auror training Draco was to go through after he was healed completely. Harry explained the tests he would have to go through. Though, in Draco’s case, they were a formality. The Ministry was honoring its agreement. Harry told him he particularly enjoyed the Stealth and Tracking training.   
“I didn’t care for the Potions training. That’s no secret. But you’ll have no trouble with Potions. You never did,” Harry smiled. “Oh, speaking of potions, you’re due for one.”  
Draco cocked his head to one side slightly and furrowed his brow. “I don’t think I need one. The pain really isn’t bad.”  
Standing, Harry shook his head. “No. Miss Gwilt made me promise to give you your potions. All of them.” He walked to the kitchenette and retrieved a bottle filled with light green liquid. When he turned around, Draco was standing right in front of him.  
“I still say you make a fair nurse maid. But that’s not what I want from you. When are we going to stop dancing around the subject of you and me?”  
Harry licked his lips as he watched Draco’s mouth.  
“Draco . . . you’ve only just left the hospital.”  
“Then perhaps I should be lying down,” the blond whispered. He leaned forward and brushed hips lips against Harry’s. The Auror closed his eyes and tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss. He set the potion down and placed his hands on Draco’s hips.  
Draco dropped the cane in order to run both hands through Harry’s thick, dark hair. Harry reciprocated, appropriately fondling the silky locks this time. Without the dust from the crumbling Manor, it was even softer.  
As glorious as kissing Harry in the kitchen was, Draco was eager to proceed to the bedroom. His erection strained against his trousers so tightly, it was becoming quite uncomfortable.  
“I want you,” he murmured against Harry’s mouth.  
“What’s the rush?” Harry asked softly.  
Instead of answering, Draco pressed up against him, deliberately digging his cock into Harry’s belly. Harry groaned, feeling the blood rush to his own hardening appendage.  
Reluctantly, Harry gently pushed Draco back slightly.  
“Draco, are you certain you’re up for this?”  
“Yes, can’t you feel it,” Draco leered. “If you’re hesitating because of my injuries, I assure you–”  
“That’s part of it, yes,” Harry confessed. “But . . . we’ve hardly even talked about . . . us. Where is this going?”  
“I’m trying to get it going to my bedroom,” Draco grinned.  
“I’m serious.”  
“So am I.” Draco sighed. “I don’t know exactly where this will end up. Nobody ever does. Do they? But I’ve never felt this way before. No one else has ever made me literally feel weak in the knees.” He paled a shade.  
“As much as I’d like to take credit, I don’t think it’s me.” Harry caught Draco just as he began to pass out. He scooped him up and carried the ailing man back to the sofa, gently placing him down.  
“Draco? Draco?”  
Grey eyes fluttered open. Draco groaned. Now he would never hear the end of it from Harry.  
“You passed out,” Harry informed him. “I told you, you needed that potion.”  
Draco rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he said, feeling more than a little foolish for his semi-monologue earlier. Harry went back into the kitchen to get the potion Draco was supposed to take. When he handed it to Draco, he had his own monologue to recite.  
“You’re right. No one knows where any new relationship is going to go. But I don’t think anyone has ever told me I made them weak in the knees.”   
Draco blushed and looked away as he took the horrid tasting potion.  
“Frankly, you do the same to me. And I’m not even injured,” Harry chuckled. “This has been building up so slowly between us, I really didn’t see it coming. I’ve never been friends with anyone before becoming lovers. Friendly, yes, but not real friends. Well, except for Ginny. But the point is, I think this has the potential to be something special and I don’t want to rush it.”  
Harry’s little speech wiped the sour expression from the potion right off Draco’s face. In theory, he agreed with Harry. Blaise had been the only friend-turned-lover for Draco, but they never had the sort of relationship Harry had with Ginny. He supposed it had something to do with the fact that there was no pretense of love involved. He and Blaise were in it for the sex. As intense as his physical reaction to Harry was, he didn’t want their relationship to be only about sex.  
Draco nodded. “Okay,” he smiled shyly, an unusual look for Draco.  
Harry nodded as well. “Good. Now get some rest. Get your strength back. You’ll need it,” he grinned. “I plan on shagging you senseless for days on end. And I don’t want to be interrupted by a trip back to St. Mungo’s.”   
Draco couldn’t help letting out a small gasp at the thought. He wanted to tell Harry to fuck it all and take him right then and there. But by then, the potion was working its magic.  
“Damned potion,” was all he could get out before losing consciousness.

HDHDHD

“Oi, Harry!” Ron called from down the hall. He jogged up to him, slightly out of breath. “I’ve been looking for you.”  
“What is it?”  
“They found your cloak. I have it in my office.”  
Harry had forgotten about the cloak he left by the door in Malfoy Manor. “Great, thanks. How’s the clean up going there?” He had gone to the mansion the day after the mission as Shacklebolt had requested. When he saw how many members of the Ministry were already involved, Harry told the Minister that he would be available if necessary. However, he was just getting in the way. No one had owled or floo called, so Harry assumed things were progressing smoothly.  
Ron shrugged. “All right, I guess. My dad told me the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts team is having a field day with all the stuff they found. They asked Dad to help catalogue it.”  
“What about the mansion itself?” Harry asked.  
“It’s pretty far gone. I supposed it can be repaired, though. Why so interested?”  
“Uh,” Harry hesitated. “Just curious. Draco asked about it. He has his own place, but with his parents missing, the Manor is his responsibility.”  
Ron raised an eyebrow. “Draco?”  
Harry remained silent. After all, it wasn’t as if it were an actual question.  
“Since when did he become Draco?” Ron laughed a little. “So Mione was right.”  
“About?” Harry questioned, frowning.  
Shaking his head, Ron said, “Nothing. I suppose if you have something to tell me, you will. Did you get lunch yet?”  
“No. I was just about to go out,” Harry told him, still frowning.  
“Great, me too. Where do you want to go?”  
“Um, actually, I was planning to . . .” Harry sighed. “Fuck it, sounds like you two already suspect anyway. I’m going to Draco’s place, to bring him lunch and make sure he’s keeping up with his potions.” He held up a previously confiscated wand in his hand. “And he’s been home without a wand the past few days.”  
“I see,” Ron tried not to smile at Harry’s obvious discomfort at disclosing that information. “And is that another one of those special services you give your snitches? Or at least one in particular.”  
“Special, what? I don’t . . . what do you mean by services?” Harry stammered. “Is it that obvious?” His shoulders slumped.  
“Honestly? I wouldn’t have noticed if Mione hadn’t pointed it out. She saw you having lunch together a couple of times. And she said you looked disappointed when Malfoy said he didn’t mean all those flowery words when he thought he was dying. Oh, shit. He did mean them, didn’t he?” He paused. “Does that mean you meant what you told him as well?”   
Harry blinked at Ron’s blunt question. Ever since he’d become an Auror, his investigative skills improved dramatically. Ron, like Harry, was trained to get information quickly and completely without regard to the sensibilities of those questioned. Harry was beginning to miss those days when Ron’s dictum was don’t ask, don’t tell.  
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Ron smirked.  
“And?”  
“And what?”  
“And that’s all you have to say about it?” Harry knew better than to think the subject was closed.  
Ron placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Tell Malfoy he’ll still have a manor to come home to. We’re not taking everything. And, Harry, don’t fuck this one up like you usually do.” Ron turned to walk down the hallway to look for Hermione, since Harry was busy for lunch.  
“I don’t–” Harry called out.  
“Yes, you do,” Ron shouted back. “See you later!”  
Harry stood alone in the hallway, insulted by Ron’s insinuation. Really, he had no right to be. He did always fuck it up. In the past five years, since becoming an Auror, Harry had several relationships. All ended after a relatively short time, beginning with Ginny. Although, that one was not his fault entirely. Or hers. It wasn’t her fault she was the wrong gender, and it wasn’t his that he didn’t realize it at first. But the others, Harry had to admit, were his fault. The first bloke he’d ever gone out with was a man several years older who worked at the Ministry. They had little in common besides physical attraction. That was his first bad choice. His second came in the form of a muggle boy he met in a pub. It was much too difficult to hide half of his life from someone he was supposedly sharing it with. It lasted even less time than the first relationship. Having frequented the Quidditch matches, Harry was often able to get special privileges, such as meeting the players. They were just as anxious to meet him. A couple of them caught Harry’s eye and he gave it a go. But they never lasted. There was never much to talk about once the sex was over. Harry was usually the one to end it. He wanted what Ron and Hermione had. Someone to spend time with. Someone he truly liked. Because sex only lasted so long, and if there was nothing afterward, what was the point? Harry wondered if he gave any of them a chance, or if his expectations were just too high.  
He went down to the lobby to use the floo network to go to Diagon Alley to pick up sandwiches from a cafe. He couldn’t stop thinking about Ron’s words. He really didn’t want to fuck this one up.   
Harry mindlessly ordered food to go, then apparated to Draco’s flat. When he arrived, the blond was not on the couch where he was expected to be.  
“Draco? Are you here?” Harry called out. “I’ve brought lunch.”  
When he didn’t get an answer, he went to the bedroom door and listened. It was the only place Draco could be. He knocked quietly, in case he was sleeping.  
The door suddenly opened and Harry found himself face to face with the object of his affections, dripping wet with a towel wrapped around his waist and another being rubbed on his head.  
“Shit, you scared me,” Draco took a step back.  
“Didn’t you hear me calling or knocking?”  
“No, I was in the bath.”  
Standing there awkwardly, Harry couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering over the former Slytherin’s body. Even with the leftover bruising, it was practically perfect.  
Draco took the towel off his head, leaving his hair just slightly damp and tousled. Harry had never seen him looking sexier. He bit his lip to remind himself not to pounce on the man.  
He gave Harry a dazzling smile. “Are you just going to stare all day? Or did you come over for a reason?”  
“Huh? Oh. I brought you lunch.” Harry held up the bag.  
“Thanks. It’s my last day of captivity and I’ve literally got nothing to eat in this place.” Draco took the bag from Harry and walked to the kitchen.  
“Last day of captivity?”  
“Yes. Tomorrow, I’m supposed to go back to St. Mungo’s for a check up, where I presume they’ll give me the okay to go about my business.”  
Harry’s brow furrowed. “But it’s only been three days.”  
“Feels like weeks. Did you forget that you said you would come with me?”  
“No, I just didn’t realize it was so soon.” If Draco got the okay, he would be able to go back to work, and enter the Auror training. He wouldn’t be sitting around waiting for Harry’s visits anymore.  
“It’s a good thing, isn’t it? Me getting all better?” Draco grinned. “Or did you like me better as the invalid needing you to tend to my every need?”  
Harry smiled sheepishly. He did like that Draco needed him. He enjoyed taking care of him.  
“Of course I’ll be glad when you’re all better. I don’t want you to push yourself, though.”  
Taking the sandwiches out of the bag and putting them on plates, Draco reminded Harry, “I’ve good incentive to push myself. You promised to shag me for days on end, as I recall.”  
A smile slowly grew on Harry’s face. “I did, didn’t I?”  
Draco shivered. He wasn’t quite sure if it was from being only in a damp towel or the look in Harry’s eyes. “I think perhaps I’d better change.” Whatever the cause for Draco’s shudder, it was a prudent idea.  
Harry’s eyes followed as Draco made his way back to his room. The pale blue towel hugged his arse just so as he walked, showing off every contour. In a short time, that arse would be Harry’s. His body began respond to that thought and he was glad Draco had gone and closed the door behind him.   
By the time Draco re-emerged, fully dressed in trousers and a loose fitting button-down shirt, with his hair properly combed, Harry’s potentially embarrassing issue had disappeared. In Draco’s absence, he brought the food and drinks to the sitting room table so they could eat in comfort.  
“The bruise on your side looks much better,” Harry commented.  
“Yeah, it feels a bit tender still, but my insides feel fine. I need to continue exercises for my right ankle,” Draco told him. “Some of the tendons were damaged along with the break. But I don’t need the cane anymore. Did you notice?”  
Honestly, he didn’t. He’d been too busy noticing other things. Harry told him what Ron said about the mansion and the artifacts found. They set up a time for Harry to pick Draco up and take him to St. Mungo’s, though Draco insisted he didn’t really need an escort. The beauty of being an Auror was the flexibility. Harry was happy to be able to come and go occasionally for personal errands.  
Harry glanced at the clock on the mantle. “Shit. Is that the correct time? I should go. I have some paperwork to do.”  
“All right. Thanks for bringing me lunch and getting me caught up.” He started to get off the couch.  
“Don’t get up,” Harry said and leaned over to kiss Draco goodbye. The kiss was a tease, as they both wished it could last much longer, not to mention progress further. Before pulling away completely, Harry mussed up Draco’s hair a bit.  
“I like it a little messy. Makes me feel not so bad about the mop on top of my head.” He winked. “Shall I bring you dinner?”  
“Um, Blaise is stopping by.”  
Harry felt a pang of jealousy. “Oh. Okay then. Tomorrow morning at half-ten?”  
“You could still come by tonight if you want. It’s just Blaise.”  
Harry smiled, feeling a little better about it. “No. You two catch up. And don’t forget to take that last potion.”  
“Yes, mum,” Draco smirked. “See you tomorrow.”  
Harry disapparated back to the Ministry building. As he walked back to his office, he realized that he and Draco had spent the past hour and a half together, talking practically non-stop. And they hadn’t even shagged. He was beginning to think Draco was by far the best choice he’d ever made. He’d better not fuck it up.


	7. A Fresh Start

“And you’re sure he said everything’s okay?” Harry asked for about the tenth time. They settled into a booth at one of Harry and Ron’s regular pubs. Normally Draco would have thought it odd for a lunch companion to sit next to him rather than across. But Harry had been doting on him for the past several days. So, it didn’t surprise him. But he would draw line at Harry cutting his meat for him.  
“Yes. I swear,” Draco held his hand up to promise. “The Healer said everything has healed up nicely. I still need to continue the stretching exercises for my ankle. But other than that, I’m cleared for my normal activities.” Draco winked. “All my normal activities.”  
Harry’s heartbeat skipped, understanding exactly what Draco was getting at.  
“Oi, Harry. Malfoy,” Ron waved as he and Hermione walked into the pub.  
Harry waved back and his friends approached their table.  
“You look a sight better than the last time I saw you,” Hermione commented.  
“Well, I don’t think it’s possible for me to look worse. Unless I really am dead.”  
Ron, Hermione and Draco all laughed. It was still a sore subject for Harry and frankly, he didn’t see the humor in it. He was still plagued by the occasional nightmare of Draco’s ‘death’, which usually resulted in memories of countless others he had witnessed.  
“Oh, lighten up Harry,” Ron said. “We wouldn’t be joking if he really died.”  
Hermione tapped Ron on the shoulder. “We should let them be alone.”  
“Nonsense,” Draco smiled. “We haven’t ordered yet. Sit with us,” he insisted. “I haven’t properly thanked you for the rescue.”  
Ron didn’t hesitate and slid into the booth across from Draco. Hermione glanced at Harry, who didn’t appear entirely happy about Draco’s invitation. But seeing as Ron made himself at home, she too sat down.  
A server came by to take the group’s order and quickly whisked away to retrieve their drink order.

“How much longer do you think it will be before I can get into the Manor?” Draco asked Ron.  
“I think another week. They found a small hidden room with all sorts of things in it.”  
“Dark objects?” Draco frowned.  
“Not sure,” Ron answered. “At first glance, no. But they have to make sure before any of the stuff can be released to you.”  
“I understand.”  
The server brought drinks and a pot of tea for the table, as requested by Hermione.  
“I’m very sorry about the state of your home,” Hermione offered. “It will take some time to get it back to its former glory.”  
Draco raised an eyebrow. “Glory? I don’t think that’s the word you’d really like to use.”  
Hermione glanced down into her cup. Draco stretched out his hand toward her, not close enough to touch her.  
“I don’t blame you. It was an oppressive Hellhole at times. I’m not certain I even want to restore it.”  
“But it’s your family home,” Harry said.  
“And a source of painful memories for all of us.” Draco took a sip of his lemonade. “Why do you think I moved out in the first place? I haven’t decided what I’m going to do with it. I’ll think about it later.”  
“What about all the stuff in it?” Ron questioned. “I mean all the stuff that’s not dark or stolen or illegal,” he said sheepishly. “There were some beautiful paintings. Probably valuable too.”  
Draco shrugged. “I suppose, in light of recent experiences, material goods no longer hold the same appeal.” He looked at Harry, momentarily forgetting the couple sitting across from them and slipping his hand over Harry’s. “I’ll keep the library though.”  
“Oh, yes, you couldn’t get rid of books. Your family must have an extensive collection,” Hermione perked up.  
“You should take a look Granger. There are probably some titles in which you’d be interested.”  
“Oh, no, I couldn’t.”  
“Of course you could. You kept bugging me about the books,” Ron announced. “That’s all you talked about. How many books, what kinds, were they being cared for properly.”  
Nudging him in the side hard, Hermione responded, “I did not keep bugging you. I asked once or twice perhaps,” she blushed.  
Food arrived at the table and the conversation slowed while the four companions ate. Ron, who finished eating first, restarted the conversation.  
“So, you’re starting Auror training soon, huh?”  
Draco nodded.  
“It wasn’t bad. The wandless magic training was probably the most difficult. For me anyway. I think Harry had the hardest time with potions,” Ron stifled a giggle. “Did he tell you about the one that exploded in Shacklebolt’s face?”  
“No, he didn’t.”  
“There’s nothing to tell,” Harry said.  
“Nothing to tell? Shacklebolt’s teeth were purple for a week!”  
Draco and Hermione joined in the chuckling.  
“I think I liked it better when you two hated each other,” Harry grumbled.  
Suddenly, it occurred to Draco what Ron first said. “Harry, I need to get a new wand. I don’t want to start training with a borrowed one.”  
“You’d better get yourself to Ollivander’s straightaway then,” Hermione suggested. “I heard he’s retiring very soon and passing the business along to his apprentice.”  
“Is his apprentice not up to standards?” Harry asked.  
“Well, I don’t know about that,” Hermione replied. “But Ollivander is the best. If it were me, I would definitely want one of his wands. And I would want him to help with the selection.”  
Draco nodded. “I’d better go today then.”  
“We can go right from here,” Harry suggested. Truthfully, Harry wanted to go straight to Draco’s flat. Wand shopping was the last thing on his mind. But Draco was right, he needed his own chosen wand.  
The group finished their meal with light conversation. Harry marveled at the lack of tension among them. The other three, anyway. He was nervous about the four of them sitting together, certain that there would be nothing to talk about. Ron had dealt with Draco on a professional level several times, yet Harry was still surprised that they were able to get past the animosity that had been between them for so long. Five years of maturity went a long way.  
By the time they were ready to leave, Harry had the feeling that the four of them could actually get along quite nicely. None of Harry’s other lovers seemed to fit in with their group. He supposed that was part of the reason his relationships didn’t last. His friendship with Ron and Hermione would never be compromised for anyone else. That was something he was unwilling to sacrifice. Even for love.  
When the server brought the bill, Draco quickly snatched it up. Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Draco put up his hand.  
“Please, a small token of my appreciation. Lunch here isn’t quite a proper thank you. But it’s the least I can do for now.”  
“There’s a switch, Harry,” Ron grinned. “Your snitch taking us out.”  
Harry flushed slightly at Ron’s poke.  
“Ron,” Hermione chided.  
“Oh, come on, I’m only taking the piss. Besides, it’s not like everyone doesn’t know why Harry always took Malfoy out. You pointed it out to me yourself. And look, it’s all worked out for the best.”  
“So, everyone in the office knows?” Harry asked.  
“You’ve been taking a bit of time off, Harry. You know how rumors start,” Ron said. “I had to set the record straight.”  
“Meaning?”  
“There was talk of you taking off to go to counseling. I didn’t want everyone to think you’d gone off the deep end.”  
“So you told everyone about me and Draco?”  
Ron stood staring, just realizing that perhaps Harry had wanted to keep his relationship a secret.  
Draco placed a hand on Harry’s arm. “Well, I don’t mind. I’ve lived with secrets far too long. Frankly, I don’t care what other people think anymore.”  
Harry looked at Draco. “Yeah. Me neither.”  
Ron let out a sigh of relief.  
“And you told me to stay out of it.” Hermione rolled her eyes. She shook her head. “We’d better get back to the Ministry. Come on Ron. You coming Harry?”  
“No, I’ve taken the whole day off. Seems I’ve accrued a bit of time off over the years.”  
Ron laughed. “That’s what happens when you never go on holiday. See you later.” He and Hermione began to walk toward the door.  
“Oh, Granger,” Draco called out.  
She turned. “It’s actually Weasley. But I think under the circumstances, you should call me Hermione.”  
Draco nodded. “Hermione. My offer was sincere, about the books. Feel free to look through our library, as soon as it’s deemed safe.”  
“Thank you,” Hermione smiled politely. She probably wouldn’t find her way there. As curious as she was about the Malfoy library, Hermione wasn’t likely to ever step foot in the Manor again. Going to rescue Harry was just about the only thing that could have gotten her to return to that awful place.  
As soon as Ron and Hermione were out of earshot, Harry said, “Merlin, I thought that lunch would never end.”  
Draco quirked an eyebrow. “In a hurry to get somewhere?” As if he didn’t know. Finally getting Harry into his bedroom had been on his mind since the moment the Healer declared him fit. “So am I.”  
Grabbing on to Harry’s hand, he disapparated.

HDHDHD  
“You made it sound as though we were heading to your flat,” Harry grumbled.  
“You heard Granger, uh, Hermione. I want to get my wand from Ollivander himself. And I’ll need time to practice with it before training starts.”  
Harry sighed. Draco was right, of course. But Harry was anxious, nervous and excited all at the same time about taking his relationship with Draco further. And the waiting was nearly killing him.  
Draco leaned closer. “I promise it will be worth the wait,” he said, as if reading Harry’s mind.  
“Ah, Harry Potter,” Ollivander said as he made his way to the pair. “You didn’t lose another wand did you, my boy?”  
“No, sir.” Harry cringed at being called boy. Though quite a bit younger than the wand maker, he was, after all twenty-three and had his own office in the Aurors Department.  
“I did,” Draco spoke up. “Mine was recently broken.”  
“I see,” said Ollivander. “Hawthorn, with a unicorn hair core, wasn’t it?”  
Draco blinked. “You remember?”  
Ollivander smiled. “I remember all my wands Mr. Malfoy.”  
He led them to the counter and looked Draco over, tapping a leathery finger on his bottom lip. “Hmm.”  
“Hmm, what?” Draco questioned.  
Without answering, Mr. Ollivander walked to the back of the shop and stepped up onto a ladder. He pulled out a wand box, then turned around to look at Draco once more. He climbed up one more rung and retrieved a box from a higher shelf before descending. He was surprisingly agile for an old man.  
“I thought, at first, to have you try another Hawthorn. But this one has a dragon heart string core.” Ollivander pushed the box toward Draco.  
As Draco reached out for it, the wand maker pulled it back. “On second thought, this one.” He nudged the second box.  
Draco opened the box. It was a dark, chocolate brown, smooth, tapered wand that was intricately carved at the wide end. “It’s beautiful,” Draco commented. He immediately felt a rush as he picked it up.  
“Go on. Give it a try,” Ollivander encouraged.  
Pointing to a book on the counter, Draco waved the wand. “Wingardium Leviosa.”  
The book floated effortlessly in the air as Draco moved the wand about. Harry caught it when it nearly hit him in the head.  
“You did that on purpose.”  
Draco smiled and shrugged. Turning to Ollivander, he said, “I like this one. What is it?”  
“Hornbeam. I think you’ll find the personality of this wand suits your own quite well.”  
“How so?” Draco questioned.  
“Hornbeam represents good taste.”  
Draco turned to Harry and smirked smugly.  
“Also, egoism, mistrust and uncertainty.”  
Frowning, Draco looked at the wand again. “Well, that’s not very flattering.”  
“There’s more. Hornbeam is complex, for it also represents discipline and conscientiousness. Not to mention an emotional partner in the matters of love.” Ollivander winked.  
Harry blushed while Draco continued to admire the wand. “That doesn’t sound so bad. What is the core?”  
“Ah, yes, the core of this one is unusual. Peacock feather. I’ve only used peacock a handful of times. It takes a special sort to master the wand of peacock core. And you, Mr. Malfoy, are a special sort.”  
Draco blinked in disbelief. “Me?” Most wizards still saw him as the pureblood rich boy standing in Daddy’s shadow. Few knew him as Harry did. A man struggling to overcome his upbringing, rather than relying on it.  
“I’ve heard about you,” Ollivander explained. “Turning yourself around, moving from your family’s manor, working for a living. And now I hear you’re entering the Auror training program. I haven’t heard of any other Death Eaters accomplishing so much.”  
Slightly bowing his head, Draco thanked Ollivander for his kind words.  
“And I’d say it takes someone quite special to win the heart of Harry Potter,” Ollivander smiled.  
Harry and Draco stood, eyes wide and mouths gaping.  
Ollivander went behind the counter to ring up Draco’s purchase. After paying, Draco asked him how he knew about the pair of them.  
Ollivander shrugged. “I hear a lot of gossip here in the Alley.” He laughed. “But don’t worry, I don’t spread any of it myself. Besides, the two of you are rather obvious. What with standing so close and the longing gazes. I think there’s a certain balance to it though.”  
Harry blushed again. He hadn’t realized he was so easy to read. Draco thanked the wand maker and tucked his purchase in the hidden pocket of his trousers. He took the box with him and he and Harry walked toward the front of the shop.  
“Enjoy your new wand,” Ollivander called out as they left. It would be the last one he sold personally.  
“Where to now?” Draco looked about Diagon Alley.  
“Seriously?” Harry asked. He grabbed hold of Draco’s hand, not caring who saw, and prepared to disapparate.


	8. Stay

“Harry?”  
He turned toward the familiar voice. The man standing there smiled and waved his hand.  
“Someone you know?” Draco asked. He immediately disliked the man.  
“You could say that.”  
“I thought that was you, Harry. How’ve you been?” Upon closer inspection, Draco decided he hated this man. He was handsome, in a rugged, obvious way. And he clearly exercised regularly. His shoulders were a good four inches broader than Draco’s own.  
“Good, good. How about you?” Harry smiled.  
“Great.” The man glanced at Draco and held out his hand. “I’m Simon. Simon Kirkland.”  
Reluctantly, Draco gave up Harry’s hand to shake the one in front of him. “I thought you looked familiar,” he said unenthusiastically. He didn’t offer his own name.  
“Oh, do you follow Quidditch? You don’t really look the type.”  
Draco determined that hate was not a strong enough word. And upon releasing Simon’s hand, he grasped Harry’s in a way that Simon would not miss. It may have been petty, but it was effective as Draco noticed Simon’s gaze drop and the slightest bit of a frown crossed his face.  
In an attempt to defuse the tension, Harry continued talking.  
“Your team is doing well. I was at the last match.”  
“You were? Why didn’t you stop in? You’re always welcome back in the locker room.” Simon again glanced at Draco’s hand clutching Harry’s.  
Harry chuckled, “Well, you know, I don’t like to take advantage of my fame. It was your team’s moment. I saw the article in the Prophet. Wicked photo of your hit.”  
Simon grinned. “Yeah. I’m afraid I knocked that bloke right off his broom. Guess I didn’t know my own strength.”  
Simon not so subtly flexed his muscles. Even under his heavy shirt, Draco could see them bulging. He felt decidedly skinny and fragile next to the man. He subconsciously frowned, wondering if Simon’s physique was the sort that usually attracted Harry.  
“Yes, I can see that you’ve been training more,” Harry smiled. “Well, it’s paid off. Seems your team is on its way to contending in the next World Cup.”  
“Yeah,” Simon agreed. “As long as we keep up the training.” He flexed his chest muscles slightly, much to Draco’s disgust. “You’re welcome to join us, Harry.” He looked over at Draco. “I’d say bring your friend, but . . .” Rather than finish his sentence, he sniggered.  
“Thanks, but I’m awfully busy these days,” Harry replied politely, ignoring the jab at Draco. “Well, we must be going. It was great to see you Simon.” Harry shook Simon’s hand.  
“You too, Harry. We should get together sometime. Good to meet you, uh, I didn’t catch your name.” He held out his hand.  
“I didn’t say.” Draco held firmly onto Harry’s hand.  
Harry turned to walk away, pulling Draco with him. Draco gave Simon one last scowl before turning in the same direction as Harry.  
“That was rather rude,” Harry commented.  
“Yes, he was.”  
“I meant you. You could have at least shaken his hand.”  
“He completely insulted me,” Draco defended. “And he was clearly flirting with you right in front of me. I mean, it was obvious that we’re together.” He didn’t mean to sound so whingey.  
Harry stopped walking. “But I couldn’t care less what he thinks. I was simply being polite. I’m not the least bit interested in him anymore.”  
“Anymore? So, you did date?”  
“Briefly. But it was never serious. Draco, you can’t get jealous of everyone I talk to. I know a lot of people. A lot of people think they know me. I still get stopped by strangers occasionally. And many of them are . . . overly friendly. I just talk to them and go on my way. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s you I want to be with.”  
“I guess that bloke never got jealous,” Draco sulked.  
Harry smiled. “Simon got stopped more than I did. But no, he probably didn’t get jealous because he was too much of an arrogant prick.”  
Draco grinned. “And you thought I was bad.”  
“Hmm, I would say you’re more conceited than arrogant,” Harry teased.  
“The difference being?” Draco quirked an eyebrow.  
“His arrogance is unwarranted. He’s just a Beater. But you have every right to be conceited.” He whispered, “You’re practically perfect.”  
Draco gave Harry’s hand a squeeze and disapparated them away.

HDHDHD

The moment they appeared in Draco’s flat, the blond closed the short distance between them and parted his lips in anticipation of a good snog.  
Harry did the same, bringing his hands to cup Draco’s face. Their tongues flicked and caressed one another inside the recesses of their mouths. Draco tossed the empty wand box onto the sofa and proceeded to unbutton Harry’s shirt. Following Draco’s lead, Harry unbuckled Draco’s belt, intent on freeing him of his trousers. The weight of the belt pulled them down to pool around his ankles. Draco pulled away just long enough to rid himself of his jumper, leaving only snug-fitting grey pants and trainers to be removed.  
Draco quickly proceeded to do the same to Harry as he stepped on the heels of his shoes to remove them. Harry helped with the unbuttoning while Draco concentrated on the blue jeans.  
Before taking off his shirt, Harry hesitated. “I’m not quite as fit as I used to be.”  
“Trying to dissuade me? You’ll have to try harder than that,” Draco smirked. “If I can bare this bag of bones, you can bloody well bare yours.” He tugged Harry’s jeans down to the ground. As Harry stepped out of the discarded clothing, he slipped off the shirt and let it fall with the other articles.  
Draco’s eyes roamed hungrily over Harry’s body, lingering on the conspicuous bulge in his boxers. “If you don’t call yourself fit, I can’t imagine what you’d call me.”  
“I’m pretty certain I called you practically perfect,” Harry smirked. He stuck two fingers in the top of Draco’s waistband and pulled, peeking inside. “I was wrong, though. You’re absolutely perfect.” He placed his whole hand inside while pulling Draco closer with his other hand. Draco groaned as Harry closed his hand around him.  
Harry kissed Draco’s neck and sucked on an earlobe. He whispered, “Shower.”  
“I took one this morning,” Draco breathed.  
“I want to shower with you. Now.” The vision of Draco dripping wet from the day before was still fresh in Harry’s mind.  
“All right.” Draco would probably have agreed to anything at that particular moment.  
Reluctantly, Harry removed his hand and stripped off his own boxers. He thought he heard Draco say fucking Hell as he did.  
Draco led Harry through his bedroom, into his bath. It was completely tiled in black and white with gold hardware. The shower was all glass and large enough for the two of them, plus at least one more.  
Silently, Draco turned on the water and pulled off his last remaining piece of clothing. Without the pants to reign him in, his erection stood embarrassingly straight out in front of him.  
As Harry stepped under the shower head, Draco watched. The water ran down in rivulets, bringing Draco’s gaze with it. When he looked back up, Harry was grinning at him.  
“Has anyone ever told you you have a beautiful cock? So pink and rosy. It’s just begging me to put my mouth around it.”  
Draco heard a whimper, and realized it was himself. Harry seized him and pushed him through the water stream against the back wall. Before Draco could comprehend what was happening, Harry knelt and took his cock into his mouth.  
The sounds of Draco’s moans reverberated off the tiles in the room, amplifying them. He briefly wondered if his neighbors could hear him. That thought quickly disappeared as he felt Harry fingering his arse. He accommodated by spreading his legs a bit farther. Harry was gentle and only teased the hole, but the sensation was enough to put Draco over the edge.  
“Harry, it’s been . . . a while. If you don’t stop, I’m going to cum.”  
Momentarily disengaging his mouth, Harry replied. “Then why would I stop?” He continued, without heeding Draco’s warning. On the contrary, he sucked harder.  
“Oh, fuck. Now. I’m cumming now. Watch out.”  
Harry pulled off and back just far enough in order to watch as long streams of white, hot cum shot out of Draco’s rosy cock. He kept his mouth open, hoping to catch anything that came close enough. As it happened, Draco shot for distance and Harry was rewarded with the sweet and salty mixture.  
Both men groaned with pleasure, the noises echoing loudly throughout the room. Draco was certain if his neighbors were home, that they would have heard.  
Harry stood and licked his lips. “Delicious,” he said, breathlessly.  
“You missed a spot,” Draco told him and licked a bit of cum off the corner of Harry’s mouth. “But what about you?”  
Draco looked down and frowned.  
Shrugging sheepishly, Harry answered, “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself. I wanked and came when you did. It’s been a while for me as well.”  
Draco suggested they rinse off and put on some bathrobes. They’d need a bit of recovery time if they planned on finally shagging. Neither one of them anticipated ending quite so quickly when they started. Draco offered to make tea and serve it in the bedroom while Harry made himself comfortable. It was an easy task, on Draco’s hunter green and gold satin covered bed.  
Returning swiftly with a tray, Draco stopped short, almost spilling the tea. Though he had imagined having Harry in his bed many times, the actual sight of it made his heart skip.  
“You all right?” Harry asked. He had taken off the robe, climbed between the sheets and propped up the pillows behind him. The duvet was pulled down low, leaving his upper body exposed.  
“Uh, yeah, sure.” Draco placed the tray on his dresser and turned back to face Harry. “On second thought, why don’t we skip the tea.”  
The corner of Harry’s mouth rose. He had been thinking the same thing ever since Draco walked back into the room. Harry pulled back the covers further and patted the bed, inviting Draco to join him. Discarding the bathrobe, Draco climbed on and straddled Harry’s legs. He looked down between them. Even flaccid, Harry’s cock was impressive. But Draco was determined to change that status.  
The blond leaned forward and kissed Harry’s neck, then his collar bones. He worked his way down Harry’s chest, pausing on each nipple. The brunet’s back arched involuntarily with every flick of Draco’s tongue. When the blond scraped his teeth against one of them, Harry gently pulled Draco’s head up.  
“Too much?” Draco chuckled.  
“I had no idea how much I would enjoy that. You could almost make me cum just by doing that alone.”  
“Not yet,” Draco smirked. His gaze traveled down and he saw that Harry had enjoyed his ministrations very much indeed. He slid up high on Harry’s torso and rubbed his arse against Harry’s rock hard cock.  
They kissed passionately while grinding themselves against one another. When Draco could take it no longer, he accioed a small bottle of lube from his side table. Without waiting for a cue from Harry, he coated the cock behind him generously, as well as his own arse. Draco rubbed a bit on his own cock for good measure and tossed the bottle aside.  
“Take me, Harry,” he whispered.  
Harry swept Draco up and laid him on his back, nudging his leg between Draco’s.  
“Merlin, I want you so badly,” Harry breathed. He had to remind himself to go slowly. As quickly as their first encounter passed, he wanted this to last as long as possible.  
Draco opened his legs wide, silently inviting Harry in. Succumbing to the provocation, Harry prodded the tight hole of Draco’s arse with the leaking head of his penis. Extending his hand out, Draco grabbed a hold of Harry and guided him in.  
Throwing his head back, Draco moaned loudly.  
“Fuck, you’re huge.”  
“Fuck, you’re tight,” Harry replied.  
Draco’s fingernails dug into Harry’s shoulders as they slowly began to move. Holding his breath through most of it, Draco whimpered with every thrust. He had to consciously remind himself to breathe.  
Harry whispered into Draco’s ear, “You feel even better than I imagined.”  
He continued to thrust in and out while Draco held on for dear life. The former Slytherin willed himself to relax and enjoy the feel of the soft kisses being bestowed upon him. The pain, though bearable, was distracting. But Draco thought he heard Harry whisper I love you as he suckled on his ear.  
Harry slowly gained momentum, reaching between them to seize Draco’s cock. The discomfort was soon forgotten as pleasure washed over him. He allowed Harry whatever liberties he pleased, asserting himself only in the occasional kiss and to run his hands through Harry’s hair.  
“Mmmm, Draco,” Harry breathed. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead in the crook of Draco’s neck. “Oh, I’m gonna cum.”  
He pushed forward a few more times, then stilled as he groaned loudly. Harry let out a heavy sigh and kissed Draco’s shoulder. Draco pulled Harry’s face toward him and pressed their mouths together. Coming back from his post orgasmic languor, Harry resumed stroking Draco’s cock as they snogged passionately.  
Before long, Draco began to whimper into Harry’s mouth. He detached his lips from Harry’s and threw his head back, his eyes closed in ecstasy.  
“Aahh. Uuhh.”  
Harry watched Draco’s face as he came and simultaneously felt the warm stickiness on his hand. The expression on the blond’s face could only be described as bliss. And Harry put it there. The Auror tenderly kissed the rosebud lips, extricated himself and lay down next to Draco on the bed.  
Their breathing gradually returned to normal from the fevered panting it had been. Draco’s eyes remained closed while Harry stared at the ceiling. This was the part he was most anxious about. So many times before, there had been little to say between him and his lovers after sex. It had become his habit to leave shortly after and sleep alone. On the odd occasion that he invited a lover to his flat, he neglected to extend the invitation to sleep over.  
For what seemed like hours, Harry waited for Draco to say something. He wondered if perhaps he himself should. He was beginning to feel that this was going to be another one of those situations. A situation where, once the lust was satisfied, there was nothing substantial to sustain a relationship.  
Harry was very nearly ready to get up and get himself dressed when he finally heard a sound from Draco. The blond stirred slightly and sighed heavily. He and Harry both turned their heads to face one another.  
“I’m sorry. I think I dozed off for a moment there,” Draco said, embarrassed by his lack of etiquette.  
So, Draco didn’t have nothing to say after all, he merely fell asleep. Relieved, Harry smirked and raised an eyebrow. “A moment?” His smiled dropped as he reached out to wipe the smallest of tears from the corner of Draco’s eye. “What’s this? Are you all right? Did I hurt you?”  
Draco looked up at the ceiling, hesitating to answer.  
“Draco?”  
“It was a little more uncomfortable than I expected,” he finally answered. He winced a bit as he turned his body toward Harry.  
Harry chuckled, “Surely, I’m not that large. You must have had blokes more well-endowed.”  
Draco shook his head. “None.”  
“Merlin, was that your first . . . Draco, why didn’t you tell me?”  
“I always fancied myself a top. Until you told me you wanted to shag me for days on end,” Draco gave a small smile. “I was afraid you wouldn’t go through with it if you knew I’d never . . . done that.”  
Harry laughed. “Nothing was going to be able to stop me.” He reached out for Draco’s shoulder. “But I would have been more careful. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”  
“I wasn’t crying,” Draco said indignantly.  
Silence fell upon them once more. Harry debated apologizing. He’d added insult to injury by implying that Draco cried during sex. Harry knew Draco was proud. But he didn’t know if he would let his pride get in the way of his happiness. Harry opened his mouth to try to smooth things over, but Draco began speaking first.  
“So, where do you want to go for supper? I’m famished.”  
To Harry’s surprise, Draco had said it as though Harry hadn’t insulted him at all.  
“Huh?”  
“Aren’t you hungry after that?” Draco questioned. “I know a club we could go to. They usually have some sort of musicians playing on Friday nights. Or we could get take away and stay in,” Draco proposed.  
“You want me to stay?” Harry was surprised by Draco’s suggestion.  
“Either way, you’ll have to go back to your flat. As fit as I think you are, my pajamas aren’t your size,” Draco smirked.  
“You want me to stay . . . overnight?” Harry asked tentatively.  
Draco rolled his eyes. “I want you to stay forever. But let’s just start with the weekend.”  
Harry’s heart skipped and he rolled toward Draco. He gently kissed his lips and grinned.  
“Let’s stay in,” he said quietly. “But I don’t think I’ll be needing pajamas. It’s only Friday and we’ve got days on end.”


End file.
